


Critical Remix

by Cutdreg



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Minor Shaun Gilmore/Vax'ildan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutdreg/pseuds/Cutdreg
Summary: A story that from the outlook seems familiar, though the finer details are... A little different.We follow the story of a collection of unlikely heroes on their road to unparalleled power and hardship like no other group of mortals has ever seen.Join an alternate universe Vox Machina with completely remixed classes and slightly altered back stories to match!---(Smut will probably be later in the story, but it will certainly be clearly marked.)
Relationships: Cassandra de Rolo/Vex'ahlia, Keyleth/Grog Strongjaw
Kudos: 9





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is a collection of brief short stories to outline the monumental character changes in this fix, feel free to guess the new classes!

Before our story commences, we must first hear the origins of our great heroes...

The twins were the product of a single night of drunken fancy.

A noble elven woman, named Syldora, had fled the city of Syngorn for just one night of adventure and mystery, before her political career truly began. She happened upon a particularly easy on the eye human man, he was impossibly tall, broad and had more muscle on him than every elven suitor her mother put before her combined. So by her decree, this man somehow managed to find his way into her bed at the inn. Of course the man was kicked out of that same bed the next morning and was honestly forgotten about for the most part, until a few weeks later when Syldora noticed something was very, very off...

Nine months, and a thousand scolding’s from her mother later, the twins were born. The two “halfbreeds” as they were called behind their backs, were immediately different than every other child in the isolated city, as they were much taller, broader and less graceful than their elven contemporaries.

Vex found her only joy in their martial training. It was unusual for a girl to take up arms in these classes but since there weren’t any rules specifically against it, she was allowed to train in the art of war. Except, she was failed in every class because she didn’t use any of the techniques she was taught with delicate blades, but preferred the biggest heaviest sword she could find. 

Her only solace was the blade master that ran the forges in Syngorn. He was an old wizened dwarf, the venom in his words alone could cut down most foes, the rest would meet the jagged blade of the axe that never left his side. He saw, in young Vex’ahlia, the makings of a warrior unparalleled on the battlefield, the magical tricks of an elven fighter and the strength and power of a giant. He forged her a most beautiful sword that she could barely lift at first, it was significantly taller than she was as a 14 year old, but she was determined to learn how to use it properly, for him, for his belief in her. She polished that sword every single day, her own most precious Trinket.

Vax’ildan found himself in a similar predicament. He found the biggest hammer in the armoury, shook the cobwebs off of it and hit things until someone told him to stop. But, unlike his sister, he found he didn’t really care. Beating the others was easy, they had no strength to match him, there was no challenge, no thrill. He found he much preferred pouring his energy into other things, like hating the gods that the elves so piously worshipped. He hated them with every thing he had, for cursing him and his sisters very existence. He would often find himself in shouting matches with the high priests, gnarled and toxic old coots that wrote the rules as they saw fit. If the gods had any power over them they certainly didn’t show it. 

It was only when an old dwarf, that Vax knew he should recognise but couldn’t quite, beat the shit out of him for cursing the Allhammer, that Vax considered his words. 

He went back to the dwarf the next day, finding him working in the forges and talked to the man. He was rude, he was blunt and he didn’t particularly seem to care. Vax had never met anyone he liked more! The dwarf told him of the Allhammer, and his worship, and he realised that perhaps not all gods are bad... Maybe just the elven ones. 

Shortly before the twins turned 18, their mother came home to them, absolutely furious. She had been denied yet another position on the council. A position that her name alone should have granted her, never mind her ability. Syldora was positive that it was because of her delinquent half-breed children. She swore at them, openly regretted their very existence, tore the curtains from the walls and destroyed everything within reach. It was only when she moved to raise a hand against Vax’ildan that Vex’ahlia caught her by the wrist, dragged her through the house and threw her kicking and screaming into the street. She locked the doors and windows while Vax packed away everything he thought they would need for a long journey. The twins barged past their enraged mother without a second glance, headed for the gates of Syngorn, hopefully never to return. 

Using what little knowledge they had of their father, the twins made their way through the villages surrounding Syngorn in an attempt to find him. Most of the villages gave them funny looks and sent them on their way, but eventually they found one that welcomed them, with open arms. 

The tiny village was little more than a clearing in the woods beside a trade road, a rest stop for the weary and the wandering. The man in charge of the tiny place ran out of his small office to meet them, his eyes wide with disbelief as he shook both of their hands. 

It was here they learned that their father was unfortunately deceased. Passing some time ago defending what little the village had from raiding bandits. He fended them off well with his lumberjacks axe, but unfortunately died of his wounds a few days later. 

The twins were heart broken. Every story they were told of their father made them miss the man they never met. He was warm, kind, strong, fearless... Everything that their mother wasn’t. They yearned for the life that they could have had, here with him. 

For the first time in his life, that evening, Vax’ildan sat down and prayed. He asked for strength like his father’s, for a kind soul like his father’s, and for a good place for such a noble soul to rest. As Vax opened his eyes, a peel of thunder shook the earth, despite the clear star filled sky above. Vax could only hope that meant that his prayer was answered. 

They stayed in the village for a while, even helped defend it against raiders a few times, venting their frustrations on the unfortunate opportunist robbers. However, when the rumours began to spread of a dragon heading up that very same trade road, everyone in the village decided that it was best they left, for greener and less fiery pastures.

\--- 

Grog was a simple creature. More or less. He grew up in the herd of storms, son of Strongjaw Stonejaw the leader of the pack. That didn’t really grant him any benefits, mind, just the genetic advantages of being born of the strongest stock. 

It definitely didn’t help him when his uncle Kevdak murdered his father. And it certainly didn’t help him when he found his uncle, years after his father’s passing, almost losing a fight to an old ass magic gnome. Grog ran in with the rest of his gang to try and stop Kevdak delivering the final blow, only to realise that the rest of his brethren were aiding Kevdak in killing the tiny old man. 

Grog fought with all he could. He managed to fight off the lesser Goliath’s present, narrowing his fight down to an injured Kevdak and a few other bigger, older members. Unconscious, or dead, bodies lay in piles on the floor, among them was the tiny gnome, still barely breathing. His weak rattling breaths were all Grog could hear beneath his own pounding heartbeat, threatening to beat it’s way out of his chest. There was no way Grog would stand for such an innocent life being spilled, especially not by someone so cruel and twisted as Kevdak, not if Grog could help it. 

The fight was over in an instant. Kevdak's Titanstone Knuckles made him nigh unbeatable one on one. Grogs defeat was certain as the Goliath’s all punched, kicked and smashed him to a bloody pulp. But, Grog would never forget the heat, the flash, and the sharp sound of the golden explosion that shook the world around them. 

The next thing Grog knew, he was standing up from the ground, Kevdak and his cronies were gone. Grog was never much of a thinker but he was pretty sure that fighting and losing to the leader of the Herd meant he wasn’t in the club anymore so he looked back to the old gnome. He had sat up against a tree now, he was covered in cuts and bruises, and his legs looked in a pretty bad way. But he still smiled kindly at Grog, and thanked him for saving him. Neither of them knew what drove the Goliath’s off, but they were both certainly thankful for it. 

Grog looked now to his own wounds, some broken ribs and some particularly heavy looking bleeding. Things weren’t looking too good, but he was a tough cookie, he wasn’t going to die here. He traced the long jagged cut across his chest, wincing slightly at the pain as he did so. But then one of the most peculiar things, in Grogs fairly straightforward life so far, happened. He felt a strange fiery feeling in his head, like he was being filled with power from... Somewhere? And the wound zipped closed. 

Grog looked down in astonishment, then at the old gnome, then back to his chest, then back to the gnome. The gnome shared his astonished look, shrugging his shoulders to show that he was also clueless. 

“Huh.” The old gnome said, as Grog looked around for the source of whatever crazy voodoo magic man just healed him.

Grog eventually just shrugged off the wonderment and, not taking this miracle for granted, picked the old gnome up carefully and put as much distance between them and the herd as he could. He followed the old gnomes directions, heading towards the big city, Westrun it was called, but Grog only knew it as “The City”, whatever one of them was. 

Along the way the gnome introduced himself as Wilhand Trickfoot, a cleric of some god called the Moonweaver. He had used his magics to defend himself against the Goliath’s, but was running out of luck right when Grog turned up. He called it a miracle from the Moonweaver, Grog called fortunate timing.

When they got to the gates, Wilhand had to do a lot of talking to get the guards to calm down. Eventually they let him in to take Wilhand to a temple for medical attention, but they kept 5 armed men on him at all times as he walked through the city. When he got to the temple, he waited there with Wilhand as he got his legs healed. 

Grog was stood in the middle of the temple, surrounded by 5 guards pointing flimsy looking spears at him when the door burst open, all 5 guards jumped and rushed to the doors brandishing their spears, only to have them batted aside by another gnome. This one was wearing flowy robes and carried a weird looking stick, ‘Maybe a gnome club?’ thought Grog as he watched the tiny force of nature barge through the temple. 

Eventually both gnomes came out of the temple and Wilhand introduced Grog to his Great-great-granddaughter, Pike Trickfoot. She was apparently super smart and studying to be a wizard at the Westhall Academy here in Westrun. Grog didn’t know what any of those long-ass words meant but he nodded and appeared impressed, hoping that was the right reaction to have. It must have been because Pike reached out her tiny hand for him to shake with a wide smile on her face, Grog took her whole forearm in his hand and shook it gently. He couldn’t help but beam back at her when she giggled as he shook her whole body up and down. 

There was a huge amount of backlash from the guards, several captains with funny floofs on their helmets came down to demand that Grog be banished, or even executed, for being a member of the herd of storms. He, again, left the talking to the Gnomes and tried his best not to look threatening while they openly talked about his execution as if he wasn’t there. 

Luckily for Grog it seemed that Wilhands age earned him some respect, and Pikes fiery attitude and status at the Academy earned her some fear as some of the guards backed up slightly when she brandished her tiny club (‘A gnome Wizard stick?’).

Eventually the gnomes won, and were allowed to keep Grog, but were entirely responsible for keeping him in check. Which they were both scarily confident that they could do...

Pike and Grog grew to be fast friends. Pike was incredibly clever and passionate about her cool magic, she could blast stuff real good. Plus, as time passed the whole city got to know of Grog and he was recognised in the street all across Westrun, he was often called on to lift heavy stuff or move stubborn cattle, or one time he got to dig a real big hole for someone! 

Anyways, Pike and Grog worked together to find out what had saved him and Wilhand from Kevdak... Their testing, rather accidentally, ended up with Pike casting a spell from a dusty old scroll, and talking to an elegant Unicorn in her dream. The majestic creature told her that Grog had been picked as the Unicorns “Champion of Good” for fighting against the odds for no other reason than he felt it was right to do so. Of course Grog didn’t really know, or care, what that meant for him, he just continued helping people who asked, and maybe bashing a few heads when the situation called for it! 

Westrun folk began to ironically call the two buddies the twins, because they were rarely seen apart but couldn’t be less alike! Pike was tiny, wickedly clever and cunning, where Grog was colossal, strapped with muscle and dumb as a bag of rocks... But no one ever told him that to his face... 

\--- 

Scanlan was... An odd boy. For a start he was a gnome living with his gnome parents, Juniper and Vicou, in a village of mostly humans. Plus, he was a little on the eccentric side, so these two factors combined to make a fairly lonely childhood. 

So, when the goblins raided the village and took his poor parents away from him, it was safe to say that his world had completely crumbled around him. When the goblins were gone, Scanlan crawled out of his hiding place to find his home ruined, and scavenged. He found the few surviving villagers squabbling over what little food they had left. Try as he might, he couldn’t get close enough to even smell the stalest bread in the pile. The tiny orphan was seen as just one more mouth to feed. 

So, full of anger, spite and an overwhelming sense of fear, Scanlan left the village and headed out into the surrounding wilderness. No one really noticed his absence, and those that did didn’t really care. 

Out in the wilderness Scanlan fought tooth and nail to survive. Living off of the few survival skills his parents taught him, foraging berries, nuts and mushrooms to keep himself alive. Eventually, Scanlan wandered upon a moss covered stone structure, some kind of temple he assumed but for now, he called it home. He made a bed in a pile of rubble and had his first night of uninterrupted sleep in what felt like a lifetime. 

In his sleep, he felt a sourceless voice talking to him. He saw the moss covered temple when it was new, an overwhelmingly powerful feeling of nature filled his tired bones as he looked over the wildlife that used to flourish in this forgotten place. 

Scanlan woke up from the dream, and before he set off to forage for more food, he noticed a crack in the wall. A crack that only a small gnome could fit through. He squeezed into the room and found it dank, damp, and void of life. The only thing that looked out of place was a sword and a strange wooden helmet. It looked like a ceremonial piece but Scanlan donned it anyway and took the sword too. It felt oddly warm in his hand as he crawled back out of the ruin. 

Scanlan lost track of time in the wilderness, he learned to hunt and to defend himself. He thrived in the chaos of the wilderness and had all but forgotten his old life, save for the faces of his parents and the feeling of their love. That he would never forget. 

The bitter memories came flooding back however, when after almost a year Scanlan happened upon a weirdly familiar clearing in the woods. It was the village. The village he abandoned, all those months ago. 

His feet carried him into the centre of the village, against his brains better judgement. He passed the rotten ruin that was his old house, and he found the same villainous faces of the villagers that left him to die. They shouted at him, they booed and they hissed. How dare he come back after abandoning their struggle. How dare he thrive on his own and leave them to suffer. 

Scanlan was furious. He was outraged. He screamed at the villagers, he cursed their names under every god he knew. He wished death, famine and plague upon them and every one they ever loved. They let his parents die and left him to the same fate, and now they blamed him for their misfortune? 

He left the village to rot, vowing never to return. 

But when he slept that night he heard a voice. A familiar matronly voice. The voice he had heard in the temple. The darkness of sleep turned into a vivid dream. Scanlan sat at the meeting point of every biome he could have imagined, and then some more! Rolling grasslands turned to desolate tundra, great open oceans turned to jagged mountains, the thickest jungles fell to the most baron deserts. And there, at the meeting point of them all, stood Scanlan Shorthalt. 

“You took my sword, did you not?” the voice asked. 

“I did...”

“You lived off of my lands, did you not?”

“I did” 

“Then why are you so angry, my child?” 

Scanlan flinched at this, he shouldn’t be so comfortable with a matronly woman calling him her child. His mother was dead, he was no one’s child, he thought to himself. 

“No, Scanlan. You are my child. You always have been, and always will be. As will every living thing. I am the mother of them all” 

Scanlan turned to the source of the voice, seeing a figure standing before him for the first time. Judging her size was impossible. Her body was carved from the mountains, her hair was the flurry of autumn leaves on the wind, her legs were sprawling sheets of ice and her feet were the roots of every tree in the world. He stared at her in awe. 

“Do you swear to serve me Scanlan? To act as my mouthpiece? My defender and my enforcer?” 

“Absolutely” he declared, never more sure if anything in his life. The power he saw before him was unfathomable. She was nature, she was everyone and every thing that ever was, is or will be.” 

“You’re the Wildmother.” He said, more a statement than a question. 

“I am. And you Scanlan, are my faithful Knight.” She touched a finger to his forehead, little more than a warm comforting breeze. Before such a being Scanlan felt tiny. Insignificant. His troubles and his worries, his pride and his anger melted away on the breeze. He had to share this. The world needed to feel her power and know her light. 

“Carry my light child. Carry it as far as those little legs will carry you.” Her voice empowered him, and he grinned at her little legs joke, standing in a strong pose with a foot up on a rock. 

There was silence for a while. Scanlan turned to the Wildmother and to his shock she was gone. He took his final look around the strange convergence of nature and for a moment, just a moment, the stone beneath his foot was a mountain. The distance between his little legs was miles long and the clouds rushed around his chest, the sun bathed his face in golden light as he fell slowly back into a dark slumber. 

Scanlan awoke, refreshed like never before. He re entered the village as the sun slowly rose over the hills. The first villagers to spot him were as hostile as they were the previous day. They didn’t even stop to ask what he was doing, tilling a small patch of earth in an abandoned farm. The second wave didn’t bother him as much, but some would jeer and spit at him as they passed him, planting precious few wild seeds in the freshly turned earth. The third wave stopped to watch as he began tilling the next patch, and from there onwards, they joined him in working the fields as the crop began to grow, unusually fast and unusually bountiful for this time of year. 

The next hoard of goblins to invade were much less successful, as the newest champion of the ancient world let loose the Wildmothers justice. 

\--- 

High above the world, at the very top of the Summit Peak Mountains a small village of dedicated druids watched over the place where the Air elemental plane crossed over to the prime material. Few people knew the place existed, and fewer still knew what they did up there, so high above the world. 

On the edge of a cliff, a small family of three stood proud against the wind. Three halfelves, a father tall and slender with long black hair, the mother shorter and thicker with muscle, the daughter stringy like her father but with her mother’s thick orange mane. 

Seasons pass. The mother bids her family goodbye, both father and daughter are sad for a time but they know their loved one is completing great and necessary deeds, to unite their people. The father knows his wife is powerful, much more powerful than any person he’s ever met and he trusts her implicitly. Yet, the doubt of the back of his mind remains. 

The news of her death shook the entire town. The chaotic winds that defended their mountain dwelling seemed more bitter than before, colder and more aggressive. The father’s hair faded from black to grey in his mourning. The only thing keeping him going was the strength of his fiery haired daughter, the strength that so reminded him of his beloved. 

On the eve of her death, some years later, her one surviving party member arrived at the base of Zephra. He only survived because he was still healing from a previous fight, one that left him broken to this day. He shuffled as he walked, he had to turn his whole body to look to either side. He came to meet her husband and her child, and with him he brought back a shred of hope. 

Keyleth couldn’t get a read on the man in front of her, which wasn’t unusual, because strangers didn’t often climb the mountain to visit the secret town on top of it. He was a tall elf with purple skin and ivory white hair. He wore ragged dark robes and the shadows seemed to cling to him in the firelight. But perhaps that was just her imagination. 

He looked at her, with pale eyes, but seemed to be looking through her, within her, drawing her out of herself... But then he smiled kindly and returned to his conversation with Korrin, her father. 

That night as Keyleth was drifting off to sleep, she heard frantic voices approaching her room. She sat upright, worry bubbling up in her chest as someone knocked rapidly on her door.

She answered the door as soon as she heard her father’s voice. He was moving faster than she had seen him move in years, with more energy than had ever had since her mother’s passing. He beckoned to her as he ran, giddy in his movements, 

The drow was sat by the fire still, his long white hair drifting in the breeze that always found its way around the mountain town. He stared longingly into the embers, as if remembering another life. His expression stayed sad as he addressed Korrin, asking him to consider the options, what if he was wrong? 

“Just... Try. For Vilya.” Korrin said solemnly. It wasn’t often that Keyleth heard her mother’s name spoken, especially not by her father. This immediately caught her attention as she fixed her gaze on the stranger, if this concerned her mother it concerned her too. 

The drow, who only went by Deke as far as Keyleth knew, exhaled slowly. He looked to Keyleth and immediately his expression softened. Keyleth was used to this, she looked so like her mother that people found it hard not to see her when they looked upon her daughter. Deke told her of his origin. How he was lost, but found a secret cloyster of monks hidden away from the waking world, shrouded in darkness and mystery. It was there that he learned of the ki energy that surrounded every one, and it’s integration with the weave of magic that laced it’s way through the many planes. He told her how for years he trained with the monks, straightening out his tangled ki in an effort to reach the peak physical form.

The monks of this temple specialised in muting your key, reducing yourself to less than a shadow, using the dark esoteric material that shadows were made of to move unseen and unheard. To cultivate this magic took him years, but he managed it. He also, in his studies, learned to read the ki of others, to judge their skills and their personality... And within Keyleth he saw the same shadow woven ki that he had spent years achieving, just waiting their, under the surface. 

And all she had to do to access her powers was to reach out. Reach out to him and let her powers manifest in shadow. 

Korrin looked at her with nothing but pride and hope in his eyes. “Do it” he begged her, “You will need more than just the strength I can teach you, the strength your mother had. It is your destiny to follow the path of the adventurer, I can feel it on the wind Keyleth. Please let me send you out into the world with more power than your mother had.” The tears that rolled down her father’s cheeks were what ultimately convinced her. The world had been unkind to her father, she had to even the odds. 

So, with that, Deke pushed a finger into her forehead... And into her mind. The feeling was alien, surreal almost, as she felt her sense of self twist and bend, like she was a puppet and Deke was untangling her strings. 

Power. 

Power flooded through her and for a moment it was too much. She opened her eyes to find herself on the floor, her father’s face above her, the glint of hope still there. 

For the next few years Keyleth trained her shadow powers with Deke. Her hair slowly turned darker at the roots until eventually it was a perfect gradient from jet black to burning orange. Korrin watched from close by, the worry in his heart easing each and every day as he watched his daughter grow. 

\--- 

The coup was as surprising as it was bloody. The eldest and the youngest De Rolo children sprinted through one akf many secret exits from the castle, down a grassy hill that lead to a tiny brook, which lead to a river, which lead them away from the danger. 

The crossbow bolts whistled as they flew through the air, peppering the broad muscly back of Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klowoski de Rolo III. 

Percy was the eldest of his siblings, and was one of the largest de Rolo’s ever born, the history books said. He was wickedly smart, charming and built like an ox. He spent most of his days in his workshop making and inventing strange gizmos and gadgets, always having more projects than time. His younger siblings all liked him well enough, but none of them shared his passion for making, for creating. That was until his youngest sister was born. Sweet young Cassandra. 

She was smaller and sleeker than Percy, much like his other siblings, but she was just as smart and all too witty for the youngest child of the batch. She was the first of her siblings to escape the castle after dark, and she was the only one to do it in her ten young years to do so without a single guard noticing her come or go. She was sneaky, a great climber, and more importantly to Percy, very interested in his work. 

The two were inseparable for a long time, spending hours in the workshop making clockwork toys and seemingly pointless machines that ticked or hummed or span. Whatever the two could dream up, they could make. It was like heaven. 

That heaven was quickly dismantled however. By the Briarwoods, and a handful of others that slew their kin and intended on killing them, if it wasn’t for sneaky young Cassandra. She lead Percy down the tunnels and secret corridors of their childhood home and the two were almost home free, when they found themselves surrounded. Percy used his bulk to lift Cassandra and break their ranks, sprinting through the castle to the river, the closest way out.

Cassandra could still remember to this day the loom in her brothers eyes as he lay dead above her. The torturous feeling of heaving herself from underneath his still warm corpse... And running. 

She left her brother and the rest of her family dead on the grounds of Castle Whitestone, and on that day, at 10 years old, she began her plans of revenge. She made it to the river like Percy had told her. She followed it for days and nights, how many she couldn’t remember. But eventually, fuelled only by rage and spite, she made it back to civilisation. A small insignificant village on the bank of the river at the base of the Alabaster Sierras. 

She stole food to eat, and money to buy her way further down the river. She never stayed in the same place for long, stealing anything of worth and moving along to the next settlement to sell them. She continued like this for days, her nights cursed by nightmares of happier times descending into chaos. One dream in particular haunted her the most, it was a dream of Percy. He was smiling as he worked his forge, elaborate designs spread out on the work bench behind him, tools scattered around and half baked scrap metal parts littered the scene. The happiness never lasted though, turning to fear and decay. Her vibrant happy brother died right in front of her in her seems every night, until eventually she could only look at the fading designs that they had worked on together. 

One design stood out. 

One scribbled plan on a half burned parchment that hung behind the withered corpse of her brother. She vaguely remembered the shape, the mechanics behind it and the notes scrawled beside it. If only she could see the dream more clearly.

As the weeks passed the dream became more frequent. She sometimes even saw that one design in her mind when she caught herself daydreaming. One day, in another village she didn’t care to learn the name of, she lost it. She was tired of the hunger and the pain, she lost her mind fully, and took off sprinting into the wilderness. She found herself shortly afterwards at an abandoned mine entrance in the middle of the forest. A make shift forge outside was stone cold, unused for days. The bench beside it looked eerily similar to Percy’s.... And it was here that she made her wicked creations. She let her self slide into the insanity, she worked on little else other than instinct, restating the forge and managing to coble together the design. And when she was done, she had two fully functioning killing machines crossed across her lower back, and a slightly changed outlook on life.

She wasn’t sure when she left the abandoned forge, and she wasn’t sure where she ended up next. All she knew was that she had the tools and the brains to get her revenge. She would steal, she would cheat, she would lie and she would do anything else that put her closer to her goal. Because she knew that her loyal pistols, Fang and Claw were just as ready to kill as she was. 

\--- 

Now, all of the pieces are on the board, there is but one take left to tell. The tale of how the mighty team Vox Machina came to be. But, that is a long and sordid tale of demons and devils, a Liches plot foiled and a Dragons plot foiled. The group suffered a loss in their most recent battle to save the capital Emon, when a Glabrezu split Cassandra in half, but luckily due to the quick work of Vax and Scanlan, they managed to get her to a Temple in time to revive her. 

For their efforts, they were gifted a keep on the edge of the city limits and, during its construction, split up for a time. It had been months since they had seen each other, and still a few weeks out from their keeps construction, they each received a message from their friend and trusted ally on the council, Allura Vysoren. She told them that a friend of hers, Lady Kima of Vord, had gone missing and she trusted no one else with the mission of finding her. 

So, itching for some action, the team decided to assemble at Lady Kima’s last known location. The Dwarven citadel of Kraghammer.


	2. Arrival at Kraghammer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of Vox Machina are meeting up at the Dwarven Citadel of Kraghammer, after 6 months of time apart, after their last big adventure!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been super fun to think about, updates will probably be pretty far apart but that can't be helped!

The twins sat at the most immediately available table at the inn. They weren’t particularly bothered about hiding, both of them were over 6 feet tall, wearing plate armour, so they didn’t have much choice in the matter anyways. 

Vax’ildan wore his bronze coloured half plate armour, with blue highlights and a handful of red gems inlaid into the plates. He stood at just a little over 6 feet, with a thick cloak that fell down behind him, emblazoned upon it was the symbol of the Stormlord. He had pointed ears and short thick crop of jet black hair, atop his wife shoulders and thick muscled form. At his side was his trusty hammer, a round hammer head on one side, and a horn shaped curved spike on the other. All together, Vax looked like an intimidating man with a heavy weapon and thick armour. Beside his sister however, he looked like only a starter, to a much bulkier main course. 

Vex’ahlia sat across from him, in her heavy full plate armour, much wider and taller than her brother but still somehow carrying the natural elven grace with her. The armour was smooth and sleek, a dull silver colour, and had plates connected with darker chainmail. Beside her, resting on the table was her helmet, usually it would completely cover her face and conceal her long luscious black locks, as she much preferred, but that wasn’t particularly conducive to eating... If Vex were sat alone, this armour would look heavy and fearsome, but next to the crude and ugly armaments of the dwarves around her, it looked pretty elegant and classy. 

Sheathed behind her back was an enormous greatsword. It’s scabbard was dark and etched with elaborate scrawling’s of constellations that you couldn’t help but stare at. The sword sheathed inside was immaculate too, it was so polished that you could see your reflection perfectly, it’s blade so sharp it could cut the skin off of a grape, should it’s wielder have the skill. 

The two shared a look as they ate, Vex picking at the meat slowly, keeping an ever curious eye on her surroundings while Vax sucked it off of the bone noisily. Anyone brave enough to get close to him while he was eating was certainly someone worth his time. 

“Hungry, Brother?” Vex asked sarcastically as she smirked at him. Vax copied the smirk sarcastically, his stubbly chin stained with grease, before he continued devouring his meal. 

“When were we all meant to meet again?” Vax asked his sister between mouthfuls of food. He was curious as to where his friends were... But not so curious as to stop eating. 

“As soon as possible within the next few days. Lady Allura said it was urgent, but we have no idea where any of them are hiding.” She said with her own gentle smirk, trying to hide her excitement at seeing her friends again.

“Well let’s hope they get here soon, the people around here don’t seem to appreciate outsiders all that much.” Vax said quietly so only his sister could hear, but continued to very obviously turn and look at all the strangers giving them funny looks across the bar. Several disgruntled dwarves turned away when Vax met their gaze but some didn’t, they just continued staring. 

One of the dwarves slid off of his stool, still holding his drink and keeping his eyes on the twins. He walked slowly up to Vax, and immediately got angrier when he realised the burly half elf wasn’t intimidated at all, but was grinning as the dwarf approached. 

“You. What’s your business here? We don’t li-“ he began, only to be cut off by Vax.

“Our business is our own, so fuck off.” He said, loud enough for the entire tavern to hear as he stood to his full height, head and shoulders above everyone else there. 

“Not when you’re in my city it ain’t! Your business is-“ the dwarf was cut off again by Vax, his face turning blood red with anger.

“Our business. Is. Our. Own. And if you keep poking your nose into it, I’ll push that same nose through the back of your skull with my hammer. Okay?” Vax said in a tone that very heavily implied that this was the end of the conversation. 

The dwarf bristled at this, but looked unsure of himself. For a moment he seemed ready to back down, but as he was about to turn away he caught looks from several of his kin... He can’t turn away, and look weak in front of them, he would be known as a coward for the rest of his days. 

“Grrrragh!” the dwarf shouted as he turned back to Vax and threw his half full cup at his head, catching the taller man in the mouth. There was a wave of sound as many of the dwarves roared in excitement, seeing the tall folk take a nasty blow to the mouth. The noise was quickly drowned out however, as a strange rumbling could be heard throughout the bar... It was a sound seldom heard in Kraghammer, the underground citadel, and at first it was mistaken for a cave in of some kind but as the sound got louder it was unmistakably the sound of thunder rolling through the room. Some of the dwarves cowered back into their seats, looking up as if on instinct despite being completely unable to see the sky. 

Vax grinned and leant forward, bringing his face closer to the dwarf. Blood trickled out of the cut in his lip that the cup left, and Vax spat a wad of blood out at the dwarves feet and reached to his belt. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the hammer at his hip.

The dwarf grimaced. He was used to fighting, especially against blunt weapons like hammers. He was also in a bar full of other dwarves that would inevitably take his side should a fight break out. But that didn’t stop him being very intimidated by the hammer wielding half elf in front of him, that has promised to push his nose through the other side of his skull. 

The rolling thunder filling the room only added to that intimidation, but luckily for the dwarf, his salvation had just arrived as a much shorter figure put itself between them, facing the half elf.

The dwarf looked down to the interposing gnome with a look of complete confusion, but sure enough the thunder died down and for a second there was silence. 

“Now young Vax’ildan, is that anyway to treat an old friend?” Scanlan asked. The silence continued for a moment longer before Vax threw both hands into the air. 

“EEEYYYYYYY! SCANLAAAANNN!” he cheered, completely forgetting the dwarf and the conflict. He slipped his hammer back into his belt and cheered. The dwarf let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and slowly backed up, heading back to the bar with hopes that everyone would forget that little altercation.

“Scanlan! It’s great to see you!” Vex said, only now looking up from her embarrassment at Vax showing off. He was often getting himself into little scuffles here and there, and very much resented it when his big sister pulled him away from them. 

The gnome jumped up into a seat beside the twins and caught up with them for a while, he hadn’t changed at all in the 6 months they had been apart. He still wore his threadbare green cape, his well worn breastplate and his fading leather pants. 

The twins learned that in their six month time apart, Scanlan had returned to his village to tell them stories of his adventures! He also spent some time back in the wilderness, renewing his connection to the Wildmother after spending so much time in cities and civilisation. 

The twins told him how they had stayed in Emon for most of the time, enjoying a little bit of peace for a while but eventually getting antsy and needing to get out and fight some stuff!

The three spent the rest of the night drinking and being merry, but eventually they grew tired and as the bar began to empty, they headed upstairs to their rented rooms for the night. The twins, being the first of the party to get to Kraghammer, had rented two double rooms and one big enough for 3, so that the entire party could share them once they arrived. Vex and Vax each took a double room, leaving the gnome with a triple room all to his tiny self! 

Perfectly merry, the drunken trio all headed to bed and within minutes were snoring away contently. The rooms weren’t exactly lavish, but they were functional and given the state they were in, the three adventurers weren’t particularly bothered either way.

\--- 

Vex’ahlia woke up slowly. Her head was definitely aching but she had definitely been in worse condition due to alcohol before. 

She closed her eyes tighter and buried her face into the pillows to try and force herself back to sleep. But she let out a groan as the noise from the tavern downstairs slowly seeped into her room... There was no way she was getting back to sleep now, but maybe if she just tried hard enough...... 

“Morning.” A female voice said.

In a rush of movement Vex’ahlia was up on her feet, the blankets on the bed were thrown off of her, landing in a heap at the foot of the bed. Trinket, her trusty Greatsword had been summoned to her hand. With her arm outstretched, the tip of the impossibly long weapon was pressed into the nose of the intruder. She was wearing sleek black leather armour, over a white shirt that was covered mostly by a black shawl/scarf that Vex happened to know also had a hood and a mask to cover her lower face too. 

“Should I have knocked?” Cassandra asked calmly. She was sitting cross legged on the second bed in Vex’s room, a pile of scrap metals and tinkering tools on her lap. She crossed her eyes to look at the tip of the blade pushing into her nose and then back up to Vex. 

“Cassandra?! Oh my gosh, yes you should have knocked! I could have killed you!” Vex shouted, lowering the sword.

A few beats of silence came next as Cassandra de Rolo waited patiently for her friend to notice...

“I’M COMPLETELY NAKED!” Vex shouted.

Cassandra simply smirked and covered her eyes with her hands, but very obviously opened her fingers wide enough to peak. 

“UHM. I’M. HOLD ON!” Vex said as her face flushed red with blush. She tried to cover herself but realised that would involve dropping Trinket, which she would never do, so she instead turned around and laid him carefully down on the bed behind her. Her blush deepened and her anger flared as she heard Cassandra whistle in appreciation at her now exposed rear. 

Vex span around, her thick black hair flying around her shoulders as she grabbed her components pouch and threw a handful of tiny feathers towards Cassandra, who’s grin suddenly dropped off of her face as she heard Vex speak a word and point her finger at her. The feathers picked up as if caught by a breeze and swirled around Cassandra... For a moment, nothing happened but then the white haired Rogue suddenly found the entire situation very funny. Very funny indeed... Almost too funny... Painfully funny. 

Cassandra fell backwards onto the bed and roared with laughter as Vex’s spell took a hold of her. Her lungs burned as she desperately gasped for air. She tried to pull her limbs in to secure her tinkering project but the tell-tale “ping” of a spring bursting free, and the rattling of loose components told her that she needn’t worry about that any more.

After thirty or forty torturous seconds, Cassandra managed to focus herself and break the spells hold on her. She caught her breath and sat back up, shooting a glare at Vex’s broad back as she finished buttoning up her loose shirt and tucking it into her leather britches.

“A simple spell. But, an effective one, wouldn’t you agree Cassandra?” Vex asked as she turned to face her, sweeping her hair behind her. 

“You broke my thingy.” Cassandra replied with a deadpan expression, looking down at the pile of now disassembled components. 

“Good. What was it meant to do?” Vex asked, picking Trinket up from the bed and sliding it back into its sheath, which she then strapped over her shoulder, leaving her armour locked in the chest provided in the room. 

“Things. Hence the name.” Cassandra said dismissively as she packed all of her tinkering stuff into a pouch in her belt and stood up from the bed, following Vex out of the room.

They found Vax already at a table downstairs, shovelling some kind of porridge looking breakfast meal into his mouth from a bowl the size of a bucket. He stopped eating for a moment, to offer Cassandra a kind greeting, but opted to keep eating as she told him the story of how she got in. Vax too, was armour-less as they had a few more days in town before the whole group would be assembled, and they saw no reason to need to drag around 60lbs worth of armour all day. 

The four spent most of their day catching up on what each of them had been doing in Vox Machina’s 6 months apart, to which Cassandra told them she had been working on a very exciting project. It was approaching midday at this point and the tavern was relatively quiet as Cassandra was about to start her story... When BOOM!

The tavern door was booted open by a thick armoured dwarf who all but filled the door way. He stomped in and the group saw another burly dwarf behind him, wearing the same set of armour. The four now realised that this was the armour of the city guard, and they were very obviously seeking someone. 

“Is there a ‘Vox Machina’ present?” one of them said in a deep, angry voice. His tone was demanding, except when he said the group’s name, then it sounded very fanciful and silly. He was mocking their name, and it evidently didn’t sit right with Vax, who tightened one hand around the hammer at his side.

“Yes. That would be us my friends, what can I help you with?” Scanlan asked quickly, resting a hand on Vax’s arm that was holding the hammer. He walked towards the two guards alone, and unarmed. 

“GUYS? SCANLAN, IS THAT YOU?” an excitable high pitched voice came from between the two guards. The dwarf that entered first was shoved aside as a very excited gnome in deep blue robes rushed past him towards Scanlan. 

“Pike! You’re here! What’s going on?” Scanlan asked as Pike leapt into his arms. She was a few inches shorter than him, and much skinnier too, although his armour did bulk him up a little. 

Pike wrapped her arms around Scanlan as he held her off of the ground, she savoured the hug... Trying to ignore that musky smell in his hair that drew her in so close every time she hugged him. 

“Well, we might have gotten into a situation...” Pike admitted as she pulled herself out of Scanlans embrace and looked with a guilty smile towards the rest of the party. 

\--- 

“-and then she said, dominoes? These are my mother’s earrings! BWAAAAHHAHAHA” 

The party all sighed in unison, but couldn’t help the smiles creeping up on their faces as they followed the guards back to the main gate. The cacophony of laughter came from what looked to be a boulder decorated with some dwarves, but as they got closer they realised the boulder was person shaped and covered in black tattoos. Before them, was Grog Strongjaw being restrained on the ground by 7 other dwarf guards that were all currently cracking up with laughter. 

The two guards that had escorted Pike put their faces in their palms and rushed ahead to silence them.

“Hi Grog!” Vex called out as they approached. 

“Oh, HEY VEX!” Grog called, he couldn’t turn his head around to see his party, as he was prone on the ground and covered in dwarves, so he simply bellowed his greeting as loud as he could in hopes that it would reach them.

“HOW ARE YOU?” he asked, remembering his manners. 

“I’m all good Grog, you seem to be in a little spot of trouble there buddy.” She called back, the smile on her face growing. 

“NO THESE GUYS ARE JUST MY NEW FRIENDS! I WAS JUST TELLING THEM SOME JOKES, TO LIGHTEN THE MOOD!” he boomed. 

“AHEM.” The angrier of the two dwarves that lead Pike into the tavern called, silencing everyone. 

“Now. These two were trying to enter the city without the proper paper work. They said you could help their case.” He said expectantly. 

“Well, yes. They’re with us. And we have our paperwork, so... Let them in?” Vex said, producing a set of papers from a side pocket of her pack, and handing it to the dwarf. 

“Hmm. It doesn’t say on here that they are a part of this “Vox Machina” Group, you claim to be. How do we know you aren’t smuggling these people into the city? Shouldn’t they have their own papers?” the dwarf said, eyeing each of the adventurers accusingly. 

“Well... We did but...” Pike began, a hint of nervousness to her voice. 

“THEY GOT EATEN BY A HORSE!” Grog shouted, still prone and facing away from everyone. 

“Grog, get up, this is silly.” Vax said, taking a step forward, standing next to his sister. 

“OKAY” Grog said as he shrugged off the dwarves. They had been putting their all into restraining him at first, but quickly realised that he was quite happy to lay face down with his arms behind his back since the dwarf had asked him too. Since then, they just kept hands on him and then he started telling jokes! But, they now realised that there was little they could do to stop all 8 and a half feet of Goliath from standing up as they each lost their grip on him and he brushed the dust off of his mostly bare chest. 

The captain jumped back at this, pulling his heavy mace from his belt loop and readied himself to fight. 

He closed the distance between himself and Grog with practiced speed and swung the heavy mace over his head, aiming perfectly at Grogs chest. He ignored the yells coming from the rest of Vox Machina, deciding that maybe this would teach the arrogant adventurers some respect. To any one else in the party, this would have been a crushing blow, but the captain might have hit the mountain itself for all he knew. The bass-y echo of the blow rattled around Grogs chest as the jagged edges of the mace snagged in Grogs barely split skin. 

Both terrified and irritated by the attacks lack of effect, the captain pulled back and swung again, aiming this time for the Goliath’s knee. The trunk like limb flexed a little as the head of the mace made contact but left little in the way of damage behind it as Grog bent over, shoving his huge head into the captain’s face. 

“Well. That wasn’t nice.” He said, his voice brimming with sarcasm. He stood back up to his full height and casually placed his finger over the slow trickle of blood coming from the wound on his chest. A golden glow covered his fingertips and the wound slowly sealed itself again. Grog grinned at the petrified look on the captain’s face and then promptly turned to Pike. He had learned, over many years of getting into trouble, that even if he could beat up his aggressors, it was often worth waiting for a second opinion from Pike. 

“Stand down Grog, I’ll handle this guy.” Pike said, rolling up the sleeves of her robes and taking a step forwards towards the guards. 

“Scanlan, you tell ‘em.” She said, turning her head to one side towards the slightly taller gnome. 

“Huh? Oh! Sure!” Scanlan said, stumbling forwards and addressing the captain. The rest of the party chuckled at Pikes antics, and watched the little paladin weave his magic. 

“So, fellas, why don’t you be the bigger men, and let our friends here into your fine city. We are here on Lady Allura’s wish, to help her with a personal matter so any chaos caused, which I can assure you there will be none, can be put on her head. Right?” Scanlan finished, leaving the captain looking slightly mystified and the rest of the guards nodding in agreement. 

“Hmmf. Fine. I’ll let you in this time, but I’d you ever show up here again without proper paperwork, there’ll be hell to pay!” The captain said, standing aside and nodding Grog through the gates to Kraghammer, trying to desperately cling onto the scraps of his dignity that Grog left him with. 

The mostly assembled party gathered back at the inn they were staying at continued catching up with each other. Despite his size, his terrifying strength, his tendency to break things and drink too much, the group quickly realised how much they had all missed Grog. It was odd how someone who by all means should scare you witless managed to light up the room, getting everyone involved and in good spirits. The only one who never forgot this was Pike because she got to spend every day with him! 

Night fell again in the underground city and the group stumbled up to their rooms! Vex and Vax fell up the stairs together, half supporting each other and half wrestling as they staggered to their rooms. Cassandra, who was considerably less drunk, followed Vex into the double room, and closed the door behind them. Pike was already passed out at the table, so Grog picked her up and carried her gently to the triple room, laying her safely down on a bed, tucking her in, and promptly passing out on the bed next to her. He was considerably bigger than the bed, so both arms were touching the floor and both legs dangled off of the edge but he was very used to this. 

Scanlan was originally intending on staying in the triple room again, but seeing a drunk Grog and Pike in there made him re think... He knew how badly Pike snored when she was drunk, so he decided to use the second bed in Vax’s room.

\--- 

Dawn came once again in Kraghammer. Though, none of Vox Machina were any the wiser, only the bustling movement of breakfast in the tavern gave them any bearing of time. 

Scanlan and Grog were the first to rouse, finding each other downstairs as they tucked into a hearty Dwarven breakfast as they waited for their comrades to wake.

Pike made a brief appearance, stumbling down the stairs in just a nightie that she had some how changed into. Her platinum white hair was stuck up in Tufts around her head and she looked like she was running on fumes as she staggered towards the table. 

“Good morning Pike, did you sleep well?” Scanlan asked politely, as he was the first to notice her. Grog stifled a laugh, it wasn’t unusual for Pike to look a rough around the edges being the chaotic individual that she was, but it was odd for her to look -this- rough. Especially in front of....

“SCANLAN!” Pike very astutely ascertained after a moments silence. She froze on the spot, Scanlan raised an eyebrow at her, slightly concerned. 

“Uhh-” he began before Pike turned on a heel and sprinted away from the table. Grog roared with laughter at this, as a very confused Scanlan turned to him, his eyebrow still stuck an inch higher on his head than the other. 

“Did I say something?” he asked, wondering why Pike always seemed so weird around him.

“Nope, hold on” Grog managed between laughs. Surely enough only minutes later Pike reappeared on the stairs. She was wearing her flowing blue wizard robes, her hair was neat and her face was much peppier than before. In fact, Grog couldn’t recall a time when the tiny wizards face was so bright and awake before breakfast!

She sauntered casually back to the table and hopped into a chair between Grog and Scanlan. 

“Good morning, gentlemen. I trust you slept well?” she asked them both, but was clearly talking to Scanlan more than Grog.

Scanlan wore a puzzled expression and stayed quiet for a second, before deciding that trying to figure out what exactly just happened was an effort entirely wasted. So he answered Pike and they had a lovely conversation over breakfast! Eventually the twins and Cassandra found their way down to the breakfast table and continued their catching up, hearing all about Pikes advances in magic, Grogs advances in his weird gifted powers, and Scanlan’s progress at his little village! 

Eventually though they got to talking about what the best plan was for their current mission, finding Lady Kima. They went over the information that Allura had given them, and decided that visiting the owner of the mithral mines that Kima was last seen heading into, Nostok Greyspine, was a good start. 

“Do you think he’ll help us? He doesn’t seem like a real nice guy from what the folk around here say.” Cassandra asked the group, having heard many tales of the Greyspines in her short few days drinking here. 

“He’d have no reason not too, right? We’re nice people, and all we wanna do is follow this ‘Kima’ person, right?” Grog reasoned, confused as to why they might run into trouble so early in the mission. 

“I agree. Maybe he will just let us pass, to go and find the one who did cause him trouble.” A familiar voice said, shocking everyone in the group, except Grog who simply turned to face the voice and said,

“Thank you Keyleth. Glad to see someone else has a little sense.” He grinned and turned his nose up at Cass, happy that someone agreed with him over her. 

The rest of the group stared between Keyleth and Grog, waiting for the penny to drop. 

“What.” Grog asked after a few seconds of silence. Eventually his eyes shot open wide and he turned to Keyleth, throwing his arms up in the air. He jumped up from his seat, almost toppling the table on the other side of him, luckily Vex was on the other side to catch it. Grogs chair was not so lucky as it skittered backwards a few feet before toppling over. 

“KEYLETH!” He shouted, most of the bar turning around to catch what the commotion was. He leant over Vax, Pike and Cassandra, crushing them slightly in the process and hugged the half elf. She made a strangled squeak noise, signifying that Grog was squeezing too hard but the smile on her face told everyone that she was glad to see him.

“Hey guys! I’m glad you aren’t dead!” Keyleth said with a beaming smile. Her creepy awkwardness always caught the others off guard, besides Grog who was also glad nobody was dead.

She wore mostly black robes that were almost sheer, revealing a sleeveless leather chest piece and leather pants not dissimilar to Cassandras. Her bare arms and neck were coated in inky black tattoos, which seemed to look even darker against her pale white skin. The tattoos themselves were a strange esoteric design that were similar to Grogs, but where his were pretty geometric, simple and tribal, Keyleths were complex, esoteric and seemed to shift as she moved. No one knew exactly, and didn’t have the confidence to ask, but they were sure that they were different every day, but not different enough to be able to point out what had changed, just... different. 

She shared drinks and food with the rest of Vox Machina as they jumped straight back into planning their next moves, it was just like old times!

\--- 

And, just like old times, everything went to shit.

The negotiations with Greyspine went no where, they didn’t fuck it up completely but they didn’t earn themselves any favours either. They had been granted access to the mines, to follow Kima and retrieve her, but the old dwarf was still cagey about the trouble in the mines, saying that everything was under control.

But, as they were making their way out, all hell broke loose and the heroes couldn’t help but jump into action! 

Cassandra was the first one to hear it, she held a hand out, stopping the group as she pointed behind them. Right as the group turned, a handful of dwarves ran around the corner panting and bloodied. 

Vex grabbed one by the scruff as he hobbled past her and asked what the hell was going on. He informed the group that “Something was making things down there. And they’re coming.” 

The cryptic message caught the heroes attention and they all shared a look. It didn’t last long as looks of confusion turned to grins of anticipation, the fight was back on, finally! 

Grog lead the charge as he sprinted blindly in the direction of battle, followed by his companions some 20 feet behind him. Cassandra sighed and closed the distance between herself and Grog, leaping the last few feet and latching onto his back. Barely noticing the extra weight, Grog continued his mad dash putting even more distance between himself and the rest of Vox Machina. Cassandra yanked hard on Grogs ear, turning his huge form to the left, listing over to one side like a ship in strong winds. 

“This way big guy!” she said sarcastically as she followed the path of bloodied dwarves into the entrance of the mine that Grog was about to pass. 

Grog skidded to a stop at the top of a big slope that lead into the mine proper, surveying the carnage in front of him. He and Cassandra saw a few more heavily armoured dwarfs backing up, they all looked mortally wounded but still fighting to the last man. 

One dwarf some ten feet from Grog turned to him and was about to talk, but as he opened his mouth a grubby looking arrow pierced his throat. His eyes went wide as his skin paled slightly, his life’s blood trickling down the filthy arrow shaft and dripping onto the mines floor. 

“Gahh!” Grog grunted, grabbing the dwarf by the shoulder in one hand and the arrow by the other. The rest of the group had caught up now and watched as Grog plucked the arrow out of the dying dwarfs throat and clamped his huge hand around the wound. 

“Not your time to die, my friend” he said, in a voice that seemed too warm and too caring for such a brute of a figure. 

The dwarf gasped for air and Grog let him back down to the ground, turning back to the battle in front of him, as Cassandra hopped from his left shoulder to his right. 

“Sound a retreat, reinforcements are here!” she said hurriedly before pulling a huge metal cylinder thing from her back. 

“Looks like you get to see my new toy a little earlier than expected guys!” she said, resting the tube over Grogs shoulder and holding her eye to a smaller tube on the top of it. With a familiar click of a trigger, am explosion tore through the mine, echoing off of the huge flat walls. A bullet whizzed past the shield wall of dwarfs and turned one of the feral creatures attacking them to paste on the stone floor. 

“OUCH!” Shouted Grog, jamming a finger into his ear that had almost burst at the huge burst of sound. 

A low horn sounded, the dwarf next to them sounding the retreat as Grog shook off his confusion and to off running into the fray, wordlessly followed by a fully armoured Vex, Vax and Scanlan.

Pike and Keyleth stayed at range, preparing their magic for whenever an enemy was revealed to them. Cassandra, whoo shouldered the huge gun for now, dismounted Grog gracefully as she pulled her trusty two pistols from the holster at the bottom of her back. 

The dwarfs let out a final yell of effort as they shoved their adversaries back one final time before they turned and retreated to the entrance of the mine. If these strange adventurer folk couldn’t beat back this small hoard of goblins then they would have to hold this entrance until the last man.

Vex pulled her helmet securely onto her head, locking it into place and brandishing Trinket. Vax stood proudly beside her, with his hammer in one hand and blue energy crackling between the fingers of his other hand. 

Scanlan drew his longsword and pulled his shield to bear, he felt the warm breeze of the wild mother around him. His blood felt like ice water I’m his veins. He wasn’t sure if that feeling in his chest was fear or rage, as he looked upon his adversary’s... A band of scrappy looking creatures, green skin and pointed ears, sharp ugly teeth and wicked yellow eyes. These were goblins. Just like the ones that killed his parents, all those years ago. 

He was ripped out of his thoughts as he heard a feral roar, a familiar feral roar. Grog let his rage encompass him, as he summoned the weapon that connected him to his patron. The weapon he pulled could take any form he wished, and he loved it! Some days a big axe, others a big sword like Vex’s, sometimes a big hammer, other times an even bigger hammer! It was wonderful! Today’s weapon of choice was a hefty curved greataxe, perfect for cleaving through hoards of goblins! 

Grog’s rage shook the ground, as did his footsteps as he sprinted into the wave of enemies. Before he reached them, a beam of red energy streaked over his shoulder from Pike further up the entrance ramp. The beam disappeared into the crowd of enemies, before a another cacophonous explosion shook the mountain and a fireball all but incinerated a portion of the enemy forces. 

Vax allowed himself a single chuckle as he watched Grog beeline for the main bulk of goblins. His face fell more serious as he watched his sister charge right after him. He knew she was smart enough and skilled enough to manage some measly goblins but he still couldn’t help but worry over his sister. He soon these thoughts from his mind, and clutched his hammer tighter in his hand. He raised both hands above his head and manifested his clerical energies into a huge storm cloud above them, scraping the edges of the open entrance to the mines but just fitting inside. He pointed his hammer down at a point in the crowd of goblins and a bolt of lightning fried the targets beneath it. Vax shuddered, using his storm powers felt so strange and disconnected while he was so far underground. 

Grog crashed into the wave of goblins, his axe coming down in a arc. The brutal looking greataxe was coated in goblin blood and gore as he tore into the front line. He barked with laughter as they scattered before him... A laugh that was cut short as a huge club slammed down onto his head. He grunted with pain, and looked up to see two huge ogres that he had ignored in his rage. He gripped his axe with renewed excitement as he prepared himself for a real fight. 

Vex’ahlia watched as Grog took a big hit to the head from the two ogres. Her plan had been to hold the group of enemies back, and allow the Spellcasters to take the much larger targets apart from range. She had forgotten, however, to inform Grog of this as he ran straight into the middle of the two larger adversaries. She considered her options, mentally checking off all of her available spells before she decided on her new plan. She held Trinket downwards in one hand, using the huge blade as an impromptu shield, before grabbing something from her component pouch. 

“GROG!” she yelled, shouting over the explosive spells, yapping of feral goblins and the overwhelming rage she knew Grog was in. Luckily he heard and span round to her, as the ogres wound up for another swing. “KEEP THEM BUSY!” she said, releasing a coarse grey dust from her hand, sprinkling it slowly out of her hand. 

Grog saw the dust hitting the ground, but somehow felt it against his skin as if she were dropping the dust on his head. He felt the sensation spread all around his body and grinned as he felt his strength increase and he gripped his greataxe with a hearty laugh as he turned back to the ogres. 

The rest of the group watched with delighted grins as the enlarged form of Grog turned to the ogres, now matching them in height. 

Vex had to work pretty hard to keep the goblins in front of her, taking a few minor blows in the process. She was aware of her ranged comrades taking shots over her head, and caught a few glimpses of Scanlan fighting with a brutal style that she hadn’t seen from her usually cool, calm and collected team mate. His usual strategy was to use his shield to control an opponent, allowing him to deliver quick efficient strikes with his sword. But now, his shield was on his back and both hands were on the handle of his sword, cleaving the crowd of goblins into more manageable chunks. 

In the unusual clarity she found in battle, her arms and her sword were working almost autonomously, allowing her to think faster than most opponents could afford. She saw the faces of her feral attackers. They were terrified. They werent trying to get passed her to attack anyone... They were fleeing something, something deeper in the mines. 

Eventually the goblin forces fell and the ogres were lit up with spells from Pike and Keyleth, and riddled with bullets from Cassandra. 

Vex immediately began cleaning what little blood and gore actually stuck to her immaculate blade off with a rag, as Keyleth sprinted forwards. She planted her feet at the bottom of the ramp and began swirling her hands around. Whisky black shadowy materials began to cling to her arms as her eyes turned black, like black dye in a clear pond. The threw her arms out in front of her and a wall of black shadow pushed it’s way out of the ground, completely blocking off the direction that the goblins came from. She let her hands down when her spell was done, and the shadows that clung to her dissipated and her eyes slowly returned to normal.

“They weren’t charging. They were fleeing.” Vex said, her breath slightly heavy after the battle. Keyleth simply nodded, having noticed the same thing. 

“Fleeing what?” Cassandra asked as she reloaded her weapons.

“Great question. Fleeing what?” Vax asked, turning to the dwarf that had formed a shield wall behind them. 

“I... I don’t know” said one dwarf, evidently the leader given his more fancy armour. 

“It was... Wrong. It wasn’t natural, nothing like I’ve ever seen before” said another, an older dwarf with a grin expression not dissimilar to Vax’s own. This seemed to satisfy the halfelf as he turned back to his comrades. 

Grog shook his head as the bloodlust faded, and he turned back to the group as they prepared themself for a second fight. Scanlan called him over as he began to dip into his own healing energies, granted to him by the Wildmother, to heal the line of dwarves. Grog grinned and followed, dropping his extra heavy enlarged mitt onto the head of the main dwarf, and expended the last of his own innate healing magics. 

As they prepared themselves, the group heard a shriek. An alien shriek that immediately put shivers into the spines of those who heard it. It was only the resolve of their captain that kept the back line of dwarves from fleeing as suddenly the room shook. A crack appeared in Keyleths wall. 

And another. 

And another. 

Grog couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh as he summoned his greataxe again, and gripped it in his still enlarged hands. 

The rest of Vox Machina hunkered down as the wall splintered and shattered. Grog embraced the pain as splinters and chunks of rock peppered his skin and he entered his rage. He looked up at his adversary in confusion. What he was seeing didn’t really make much sense, and honestly looked super gross. But, regardless... Grog had some smashing to do, one of the smarty pants’s behind him would probably let him know what it was they were fighting once they had killed it dead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanna guess at everyone's class? I'll name them all in the next chapter!   
> Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> What did ya think? 
> 
> Cheers for reading folks, the first real chapter will be up in a week or so, I would expect.


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